His thinking wasn’t much different than most of the dudes at school.

Qwan thought I was too picky. According to him, if Kiera Westing didn’t exist, I’d be saving myself for some hot actress on TV because that’s the next level of unattainable after Kiera. I let him think it. It was easier than the truth.

Doing it the way he did, the way most dudes talked about . . . I envied it, really. I wished I was built like that. It seemed fun. Somehow easier. Until it went wrong, anyway. Something everyone at Green Creek High had witnessed.

I’m not built that way though, not the smash-on-the-couch-after-school-before-some-adult-got-home type. I liked the way Dad sat on one corner of the sofa with Mom wedged in his armpit, her feet tucked under her, while we all watched Jeopardy! or Black-ish. I liked watching them hold hands in the Costco before I was old enough to skip the trip. That’s the kind of thing I wanted. With Kiera. And it wasn’t unattainable. I wouldn’t let it be.

I mopped until my arm ached. After, I stowed my bucket. There were three hours left in my shift. Then Tyrell let me know to adjust my math.

“Business is slow. Gotta send you home early, Del.”

Not the news I wanted. Two hours’ work for the whole week wasn’t even a full tank of gas, let alone car insurance money. Mya remained in the drive-thru nook, filling a couple of Whale-Sized cups with ice and Sprite, no signs of slowing down.

“Just me?” I asked.

Tyrell gave me a half grin. “We’ve got the rest of the evening covered.”

My driving privileges were on the line here. “Can I get on the schedule some evenings this week?”

Tyrell held his clipboard to his chest like a shield. “I’ll call if I got something.”

Not down for answering any “why you home so soon?” questions, I caught a movie at the two-dollar theater in Old Town Green Creek, then made my way home around the time my shift should’ve ended.

Mom’s car was MIA when I pulled into the driveway. She was back at church, for the special Sunday-evening worship First Missionary did every other week. Like, seriously, how much praying did you need to do in one day? Dad was zonked out on the couch, snoring, an NFL game watching him. I slipped to the kitchen quietly, huffed down three—maybe four—tacos, then made my way upstairs to the Sanctum Sanctorum, aka my room.

Mom had left my Purity Pledge folder on my keyboard. But, it wasn’t the only item.

There was also a signed permission slip I’d brought home weeks ago and forgotten about, with the Green Creek High crest printed at the top. It said:

Healthy Living Elective Opt-In Form/Grade 11

If you wish to opt your student into some or all of the grade eleven Healthy Living Elective (HLE) lessons, please complete this form and return it to your student’s Health/PE teacher by the Week 1 date on your welcome letter.